


Blood on My Hands

by drpepperdiva91



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, attempted cannon compliance, inner monologue with cannon dialogue, magnussen shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:16:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpepperdiva91/pseuds/drpepperdiva91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know where to find people who hate her. I know where they live; I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace- all of it." <em>And no way to destroy it. Except... oh.</em></p><p>  <em>Oh.</em></p><p>  <em>That would be reckless.</em></p><p>  <em>Have I anything to lose?</em></p><p>---</p><p>The author tries to get inside Sherlock's head during the Magnussen shooting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood on My Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks for Ariane Devere on LiveJournal, for the beautiful episode transcript, found at: http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/68754.html

"Sherlock, do we have a plan?"  _John's voice cuts through my thought process. Not a hard feat, considering my thought process may as well be a drunken monkey at a circus, at this point. Perhaps I'm going into shock. Really, this blunder is as pathetic as it is embarrassing. I definitely do not have a plan. I barely have a reaction, at all. I can scarcely move, much less answer him. Even in the tension, trust drips from his voice. Trust issues. The issue is that he's trusted an impulsive, dull-witted madman with his life, rather than someone who might actually be good for him. Idiot._

_Christ, we are entirely fucked._

"Sherlock."  _He's still standing here, but I can't look at him. I feel him turn, listen to his footsteps as he follows Magnussen. I can't watch- I don't even keep my eyes open. This is not happening. How can I have let this happen?_ _  
_

_I can stand in here all night and I won't come any closer to a solution. There isn't one. We're going to prison. Or, at the very least, I am. Maybe it would be better if we both went- then at least he'd be safe from Mary._

_Foolish. She will know someone on the inside. The only safety from Mary is her own safety from her past._

_Somehow, my legs carry me from the study, towards the glass door that leads to the patio. It's just a waiting game now. Mycroft and his dogs will be here soon enough._

_There's got to be something else here that I'm not seeing. That's the only option. That's it. One option._

_There are literally no options._

_Christ, John is just standing here, talking to him. As if he could be reasoned with. We've made that mistake once already, John. Get_ away _from that man._

"I just  _love_ your little soldier face. I'd like to punch it,"  _Magnussen drawls. His mouth is slimy and foul, like his personality. Fitting. John seems mildly appalled, his eyes wide and disgusted. Pity that it's just going to get worse. My stomach is churning and I remember the moist drag of Magnussen's tongue against the skin of my hand, suddenly. It's barely there, a fleeting sensation, and then gone again. Thank god for heavy anesthesia._

"Bring it over here a minute."  _Oh, John. Christ. John glances at me, clearly questioning whether he should listen to the monster. He has to. We have to. I nod at him, knowing he understands my meaning. I hope I'm also able to convey how sick I am with remorse. John still doesn't move. I can't read his face, and somehow this terrifies me more than our abysmal situation._

"For Mary. Bring me your face."  _He says it as if he wants John to peel off his dermis and serve it to him on a silver platter. Well... perhaps that's not so far from the truth, considering his propensity for tasting people._

"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out."  _Oh, God. I'm going to be ill. I may actually vomit on the patio._ _  
_

"Please?"  _I watch John obey him. Like an animal. Like a soldier with no other options, in a hostage situation. I've got nothing up my sleeve this time. All of this is entirely my fault, and there is no way either of us can deny it. Of course, it's John that gets dehumanized by this sick fucking vulture of a man, on my behalf._

"Now, can I flick it?"  _Can he... really? You're going to ask permission to abuse him, just to make it worse? Neither of us are in a position to say no. John will submit to his bullying, and I will play spectator. Orchestrator._

"Can I flick your face?"  _I am dimly aware that I'm not breathing while I wait for the bottom to fall out of this shit-storm. He flicks John's cheek, close to his eye. Of course he flinches. I silently choke back bile and fix my eyes on the stone beneath my feet. I cannot watch this._ _  
_

_This will be the end, I suddenly realize. I've known it since we found out he was using a Mind Palace, but now I feel it, heavy in my bones. I will go to prison, John will probably go to prison, Mary will be hunted by the ghosts of her past, the child will be murdered, John's child, John's sweet innocent child will be killed, and it will be because I wasn't clever enough to figure out when someone was beating me at my own game._

_There is more blood on my hands than inside my body._

"I just  _love_ doing this. I could do it all day. It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed." _I look back up at this, surprised he would be so blatant about it. I suppose there's nothing left for anyone to lose. All the cards are already on the table. He keeps flicking John's face; he no longer flinches. His expression is stony and hard. He is a rock, as ever. I, meanwhile, am a crumbling foundation of sand._

"I know where to find people who hate her. I know where they live; I know their phone numbers. All in my Mind Palace- all of it."  _And no way to destroy it. Except... oh._

_Oh._

_That would be reckless._

_Have I anything to lose?_

"I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down-- and I will..."  _He pauses, to flick again. I barely contain my snarl._

"Unless you let me flick your face."  _I'm aware that I'm showing my teeth like a dog now. A caged, reckless, rabid dog. This is what he's reduced me to. Could I really kill him, point blank? Right here?_

_Not that I haven't killed. But this will change things. This will change everything._

"This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries. Just because I  _know_. Can I do your eye now?"  _Can't get to the gun yet. Should have lifted it earlier._

"See if you can keep it open, hmm?"  _You foul, foul bastard. I'm so sorry, John._

_Magnussen keeps on flicking. Shouldn't he be bored soon? John flinches, which amuses Magnussen. It gives him pleasure._

"Come on. For Mary. Keep it open."

"Sherlock?" _The first time John has spoken since I followed him out here. He can't possibly still have hope, at this point. Even if I  
_ do _shoot Magnussen, at this point... This is not going to end well for anyone. Even so. There's something in his voice._

_Oh, John. You._

"Let him. I'm sorry. Just... let him."  _I try to convey the depth of my apology, but John doesn't know, yet, everything I'm apologizing for. He's going to lose me again, not in the same way as before but, still, a loss nonetheless. I can't tell if he realizes I have a plan, yet. Part of me doesn't want him to. He'll try to stop me._

_Maybe._

"Come on, eye open. It's difficult, isn't it? Janine managed it once. She makes the funniest noises."  _I almost react to that- hypocritical, considering how we've both used her. But Mycroft is here; I hear the helicopter. Damn it. I haven't got the gun, yet. Though, maybe this will be better with witnesses. Less implication for John._

 _Yes. This will be better._ _Mycroft will not understand._

_The wind slaps me in the face and whips my curls. It stings. But it pulls me out of the haze I'm in, gives my adrenaline levels another rush._

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Stand away from that man."  _My heart is racing. It reminds me of the buzz I felt before the first time I killed a man, while I was dead. I pray my hand won't shake._

"Here we go, Mr. Holmes!"  _Magnussen, so smug. He thinks he's won._ _John doesn't have a clue, he's a deer in the headlights._

_Before I do this, I've got to be sure._

"To clarify: Appledoor's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there."  _I shout. I doubt Mycroft can here me. If he could, he would know immediately what my intentions are. He may know already._

_Please don't let them shoot me, brother._

"They're not real. They never have been."  _He glances at the helicopter. Assures himself of the protection Mycroft offers._

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step  _away_."  _Even over a loudspeaker from a helicopter, Mycroft manages to sound annoyed. I wonder if he realizes the extent to which I have failed, yet. Does he see it coming? His men are aiming guns at me, and at John. Is he really prepared for that?_

"Sherlock, what do we do?"  _We don't do anything, John. I'm going to end this. His voice is tight and controlled. I wonder where our panic has gone, briefly. He looks to me for guidance, and I offer nothing in return. I am abandoning him, again, to save his life, again._ _  
_

_I don't take vows lightly._

"Nothing!"  _Magnussen chimes in._ "There's nothing to be done! Oh, I'm not a villian. I have no evil plan. I'm a businessman, acquiring assets.  _You_ happen to be one of them."  _I wonder what his last words will be. A heavy calm settles over me, and I revel in it. It will be the last ease I feel for quite some time, I know._

_I turn to make eye contact with John. I need him to understand what I'm about to do, but there is no way to tell him. All he knows is that something is about to happen. I need him to trust me. He does. He is a fool, and this is why I love him._

_I love him._

"Sorry. No chance to be a hero  _this_ time, Mr. Holmes."  _Oh, that's it. Those are his last words._

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step away from that man. Do it  _now_."  _Mycroft knows something is wrong. I have tells, and he knows them better than I know myself. He's as exasperated as he is worried. Maybe they will shoot me._

_This is it._

"Oh, do your research."  _I reach around John and he moves to let me. My arm is so close to him; it's the closest we've come to an embrace in a long time. I allow myself to inhale his scent deeply before I step away, his firearm heavy in my hand._

_So much blood on my hands._

"I'm not a hero. I'm a high-functioning sociopath."  _I have no idea what I look like, but it must be a strange mix of crazed and furious. My hand does not shake. My heart does not stutter. I am cold, and the chill runs through my veins._

"Merry Christmas!" _I shout. My arm lifts itself, I aim, and I fire. I destroy his Mind Palace. I decimate it._

_I watch him fall backwards, limp. He is dead. I killed him. I did that._

_I don't hear the sound of the shot. I no longer hear the helicopter. Everything is silent, and I am not breathing, again. I wonder if I have been shot, but there's no pain, so. I realize that if I am to be shot, John is far to close to me._

"Get away from me, John. Stay well back!"  _I can't hear my own voice, but I must still be shouting. My throat aches. John's face is wrecked, ruined. But he does as I say. He steps away and I feel as if I am losing a limb. His mouth moves, but I don't know what he could possibly be saying. It won't matter now. It's over. I've done it, and I have no control over what happens next._

_Mycroft must have told them not to shoot me, because I am still standing. My hands are above my head, but I do not remember raising them. I've dropped the gun, sometime. Don't remember that, either. I won't have much more time with John. I turn and face him one last time, and his eyes bore into me in horror or shock, I'm not sure which anymore._

"Give my love to Mary. Tell her she's safe now."  _I love you. You're safe now. Your child is safe. Forgive me._

_Please, John._

_Oh, John._

_I turn back to the police, and kneel before them, surrendering. It's over. I surprise myself by wishing Mycroft were beside me, rather than watching me from behind glass and steel. I'm going into shock, now, I'm sure of it._

_All that's left now is waiting. It will take more than a sink to wash my hands, of this._

**Author's Note:**

> It's interesting to do Sherlock, first-person, present-tense. I hope I've managed it alright. Leave me comments, I eat them up like chocolate.


End file.
